Best Days
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day seven hundred and forty: When she was little, Brittany's favorite times were spent with her grandfather.  aka 'The Hierophant'


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 35th cycle. Now cycle 36!_

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><p><em>Had the idea for this cycle back in July or August where I thought it'd be interesting to do <strong>a set inspired by tarot cards<strong>. My initial research then directed me to the cards of **the Major Arcana**, of which there were 22, so I combined two, which got me to 21, making this a cycle-long set of stories. Then I did more research, to find out about each of those cards, and what they can represent. Now I need to point out that it's a more or less basic approach. I don't go into the reverse meaning or other things, just this part.** ** If you would like the document of info I've collected and based myself on, let me know and I'll send it, since it covers the next three weeks' worth of stories. **** Lastly, in connection to the first card, **'The Fool'**, and the journey through those other cards, this entire cycle will feature, in lead or supporting form, one **Brittany S. Pierce**..._

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><p><strong>"Best Days"<br>or 'The Hierophant'  
>Young Brittany &amp; Joseph (&amp; Sue)<br>Extra to Sylvesters Series **

There were three occasions when she would get to spend the day with her grandfather. The first was on snow days when daycare or school would be closed but the high school wasn't. The second was when she was out sick from school, like the great stomach bug of '06. And then there was the third… When Sue and her Cheerios would get into competition period and her stress would rise, she would speak those magical words 'Want to go spend the day at Grandpa's house?'

Then there was the weekend when she was eight years old, when her mother was out of town for a competition and she was taken with the chicken pox. She had woken up Friday morning, dragging her slippers and clutching Blippo the blue hippo to her chest, and once she'd found her mother she had turned her eyes up to her with a single question: "When am I going to Grandpa's?"

When they'd arrived at Joseph Pierce's house, he came to greet her at the door, gathering up his itchy granddaughter in his arms. "What happened, freckles weren't enough?" he asked, smiling at her. She reached to a spot on her face, and he wrapped her tiny hand in his. "No scratching," he instructed her.

"There's bugs under there!" she insisted, frowning.

"Are there?" he asked, lifting up her arm for inspection. She nodded.

"They're everywhere, everywhere," she wriggled with itch.

"Yeah, they can be sneaky that way, right?" he waved to Sue as she was on her way back to her car and then carried the girl to the house. "Lucky for you, and unlucky for them, I have something that can help… like magic," he whispered with enough mystery to grab her attention.

"Magic…" she whispered back with a gasp. He laughed.

"Something like that."

Before long, Grandpa Joseph had worked his 'magic,' and Brittany was relieved of her itch. With the whole day ahead of them, the only question left was… where to start? Brittany loved doing anything with him, even cleaning things, fixing things. Of course this was when she wasn't sick. On this day, they were going to take it easy. But as she was sick, then one of their activities was already decided on: making Grandma Catherine's cookies. She'd never met her grandmother; she'd died before she was born. She didn't know how to make them on her own, just like when they would fix things, but then her grandfather would tell her just what she had to do and she would do it.

"Okay, you drop that in the bowl now," he indicated a bag of chocolate chips. She stared at it hungrily.

"All of it?" she looked back to him.

"All of it except the bag," he nodded, and she laughed, turning the bag over the bowl and watching the chips rain down into the mix. Joseph reached in the bowl and snatched one of the chips, eating it.

"Hey!" Brittany pointed an accusatory finger. So he took another chip, this time putting it in her hand. "Okay," she smiled, eating it up. "Now what?"

"Now stir," he put the spoon in her hand. She dug it in and began stirring everything. "Carefully," he guided her spoon, stirring with her. Once the spoon was removed, he looked at the mix, and she did the same, like she didn't know what he was doing, even though she knew by now… it was part of their routine. "Think it's ready?" he consulted her. She gave a nod. "Alright, let's go wash our hands then." After a trip to the sink, they got to work, rolling out the balls of dough and putting them on the sheet. Now came the waiting, the part she didn't like. Joseph told her though, how it was just part of it, that it would be worth it in the end. So she took a breath and nodded her head; she'd wait.

While the cookies baked, Joseph asked his granddaughter what she wanted to do, and after a moment to think, she declared she wanted to draw a picture – her usual thank you to him for having her. She went to find the paper and the markers and took them to the dining room table. She got to drawing, and so did he. She didn't want him seeing her picture before she was done, so he did the same, both of them putting an arm on the table to bar curious, identical blue eyes.

"Done!" she finally declared, looking at him. He was still drawing, innocently holding up a finger. She waited, watched… craned her neck to try to see. "Grandpa, come on!" she begged.

"Art takes time," he declared in his deep voice. She sighed. "Almost done." Brittany crossed her arms over her picture, pressing her chin on them as she waited. He turned his eyes up at her. "Come on, no pouting," he told her. "Smile's much better, see?" he turned his drawing over and showed her.

"That's me!" she gasped with a smile. He nodded. "Where's my spots?" she asked.

"They'll go away," he shrugged. "And then…" he pointed to the drawing. That sounded good to her, so she revealed her own drawing. "Ah, see, there's your spots," he pointed with a smile to the picture, a dog with red spots. That got a laugh out of her, just as the timer rang in the kitchen.

"Cookies are done!" she took off running.

"Don't touch the oven!" he called after her, moving to join her.

"I know, Grandpa," she promised.

The cookies were pulled out of the oven and then left to cool. They couldn't be eaten yet, but already knowing that they were there and they were ready was enough for her to be patient a little while longer. "So what do you want to do now?" he asked her, looking back… "You want to scratch again, don't you?" he smirked, seeing how her fingers curled, begging to attack the spots with her nails.

"No…" she lied.

"Right," he nodded. "You want to watch a movie?" he asked, but she shook her head. "No? Okay, what should we do then?" She looked at him, like she was about to ask something massive.

"Can we make a fork?"

"A fork?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That's what my friend Henry called it… when he was my friend," she blinked. "We took cushions from the couch, and blankets..."

"A fort…" he nodded, and she shrugged.

"We can eat the cookies there!" He considered this.

"Alright then, let's build a fort," he agreed, and she took off excitedly, like always. He helped her, making sure it would hold strong, and then with the cookies transferred to a plate, and a story book she liked, he joined his granddaughter inside the fort. They had the cookies, he read the story… Eventually she would fall asleep, resting up against him. He let her sleep, safe in their construction.

THE END

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><p><strong>AN: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
><strong>**In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
><strong>******always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!******


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